


Sacred Love

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, F/M, Infidelity, Kink Meme, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/">xmen-firstkink</a> for request 'established Charles/Moira; infidelity/exhibitionism'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacred Love

”I didn't expect a call from you so soon, Mrs. Xavier.”

”Why? You had other plans? From what I heard, my husband's team pretty much handed you your ass in South America,” Moira said and dropped her handbag to the empty chair. "So I'm sure you have nothing but time at the moment."

The room was like any other, in the dozens of other hotels in the city. Cold, clean and impersonal, the way Moira preferred. She knew Erik had a safe house somewhere, and she knew if she asked, he would take her there. But she preferred the pretense of anonymity. Whatever happened in this room, after the fact the sheets would be washed and the dirt wiped away, everything disinfected and made new again.

Moira folded her coat neatly on top of her handbag. The coat was black mink, expensive and luxurious, a gift. The first flakes of snow had fluttered down when she had left, and the crystals of snow glittered against the black fur for a moment before melting away. Moira kicked off her shoes and shook her hair open. Erik watched her every move. He seemed relaxed as he leaned against the windowpane, arms crossed, half hidden in the shadows.

“Always the same quick mouth, Mrs. Xavier. Someone should teach you to bite your tongue. You might say one wrong thing too many one of these days.”

“I suppose you are offering a lesson?”

“Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me, slut.”

His voice was quiet and cold. Moira dropped down without thinking and crawled, slowly, swaying her hips, arching her back like a cat. She looked at the hem of her black dress, the way it dragged against the floor, the thick silk gathering the dirt. Erik watched her, unmoving until her chin touched his leg. With a swift move he grabbed her by the neck, pulling her up to her knees. Moira didn't struggle, she just hung in his grip and waited, staring up to see the look in his eyes.

“Do you have a clever quip in mind that you would like to share Mrs. Xavier, or shall we move along with the lesson?”

“Quit the fucking foreplay,” Moira said, pressing against Erik's hand. “My husband expects me home before midnight.”

Erik's smile was as cold and white as the falling snow outside the window. “Better go to work then, slut.”

Moira raised her hands to his belt, slid the thick leather though the buckle, snapped the button, pulled the zipper. He was ready for her. She opened her mouth and took him in, prepared for the inevitable thrust that he did on purpose, only to hear her choke. She knew him, and the things he loved to do to her. So she relaxed her muscles, allowed him to thrust in her throat as he pleased, his strong hands wrapped around her head. She felt like a doll in his hands. Erik never spoke when he fucked her throat like this. Instead he stroked her brow every time he pushed deep and held there, watching her struggle.

Moira waited for him to get bored of this part. She never knew how long it would last. Sometimes he didn't want her mouth at all, sometimes it was all he wanted. Tonight Erik got bored quickly, throwing her away from him with more force than was absolutely necessary. Moira sprawled on the hard floor, staring at the ceiling. There was a crack there, covered with a patch different color plaster.

“Is that all you got to offer, slut?”

Moira pulled the hem of her dress up, revealing the lace trimmed silk socks and the black garter belt. She didn't wore panties. What would've been the point?

Erik laughed, dark and low, and then he was on top of her, his weight pinning her down. He thrust in her and she was ready, she had been ready since the moment she had walked into the room. Erik had known it too, known that in this bleak room he could do anything to her. He fucked her hard, without mercy or kindness, just slamming her against the floor again and again, until she was sure that this time she would loose her sanity, that this was the black pit she would not return from. The pleasure was sparkling arc of light, shattering her body underneath his weight.  
Erik bit down on the soft curve of her breast, gnawing her flesh, her skin tearing from the strength of the bite. Moira shrieked in pain and Erik pulled out to spill on her stomach, speck of blood on his chin.

Without word he stood up and straightened his clothes and returned back to the window, leaning to stare the swirling snow behind the glass. Moira just laid there for a moment longer, before straightening the hem of her dress and pushing up from the floor to stand on her weak legs.

“My regards to your husband.”

Moira walked to the door, picked up her shoes as she went, wrapped the mink coat around her shoulders and walked out, closing the door behind her.

***  
The yard was coated with fresh snow as Moira pulled up to the front door. She got out carefully, watching her step. Her heels clicked against the stone steps as she walked to the door, the foyer light left on for her benefit. She clicked it shut when she got inside, and made sure that the door locked tight. She walked upstairs, knocked quietly on Charles' door and walked in without waiting for an answer.

He looked up from his book, and smiled. It was the smile reserved just for her, and every time it made Moira's heart ache with love.

“How was your evening?”

“I should wash up first, I just wanted to see if you were still up.”

“No no. Come here. Tell me.”

Moira walked to the bed and sat next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her. “Well?”

“Do you really want to hear, or would you rather see?”

“You choose,” Charles said and Moira took his hand and guided it to the gash on her chest. The mark was swollen, the blood dried into crusted flakes.

“It had just started to snow when I left...”


End file.
